


The Holy Game of Poker

by astrangerfate, orphan_account



Series: Things We Can't Untie [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerfate/pseuds/astrangerfate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timestamps for Things We Can't Untie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holy Game of Poker

**Author's Note:**

> Will not make any sense without previously reading Things We Can't Untie.

_Ah, you hate to watch another tired man lay down his hand, like he was giving up the holy game of poker…  
-Leonard Cohen_

_November 10th, 2076_

Jensen doesn’t know why he does it – he hasn’t touched Jared since they left the facility – but something the kid is saying, perched on the kitchen counter in their temporary housing, is so endearing he has to reach out and touch him. Just lightly, on the shoulder.

He curses himself for it later. _Stupid fucking dumbass._ But there’s no taking it back. He can’t stop himself from seeing the way Jared’s eyes widened, feeling the kid tense beneath his hand. And of course he can’t exactly forget the way Jared bolted upstairs without another word. No explanation, nothing.

The rest of the night, loud, angry sobs come from behind the door to his room. It’s the first time Jensen has actually heard Jared cry.

He tries everything, of course. Immediate, horrified apologies. Promises shouted to the kid through the locked door. Bribery in the form of omelets.

Nothing works. Jared doesn’t leave his room, not to shower, to eat, to use the bathroom, for over twenty-four hours.

Jensen feels like he should probably call someone, admit how badly he fucked up, ask for help. But at the same time, he’s fucking embarrassed and angry with himself. He’s not sure he could handle other people coming in between them. Judging him with their eyes. Blaming him. Assigning him to some other district where he wouldn’t know anyone and didn’t speak the language.

Just when he’s sure he has to admit defeat, the door swings open and Jared walks out. He’s wearing nothing but a thin brown bathrobe, and he looks like hell.

He walks straight to Jensen. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice still shaky, eyes red. “I’m sorry, Jensen, I –”

Jensen holds up a hand to stop him. “No, Jared, no,” he says, cutting across Jared’s half-formed apology. “No. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

He takes a deep breath. Honesty sucks ass. “Shit, Jared, I’m sorry. I had no right to touch you. Christ, I fucking _raped_ you –”

“No,” Jared says softly. He’s looking Jensen straight in the eyes. “No. You saved me.”

And it’s fucked up in a hundred different ways, but Jensen doesn’t know what else to do except stand there, shaking his head.

Jared takes another uncertain step, and flings his arms around Jensen. They’ve never been in this position before, for all their intimacy together, and this time it’s Jensen who freezes for a second.

“Jared,” he starts, but Jared doesn’t move, and slowly, Jensen puts his own arms up around Jared’s back.

They stand in the hallway, holding on to each other until their arms feel numb, and neither one of them says a word.

“Thank you,” Jared murmurs finally, squeezing Jensen tight before letting him go. “Just… fuck it. Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen says, wishing he could brush the hair out of Jared’s eyes. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

\---

_January 12th, 2077_

"Not till you say it in Spanish," Jared teases, and Jensen rolls his eyes.

"Enough with the Spanish already," he mutters. "I bought food today, didn't I?"

"You asked '¿Cuánto cuesta?' and shoved the bill at the vendor without waiting for an answer," Jared says firmly. "Now come on. Your Spanish is better than you think it is. Ask me nicely."

"Te amo," Jensen says, with some difficulty. He still hasn't gone beyond a few basic textbook phrases, and while he knows that Jared is right, and he does need the practice, the words are awkward and embarrassing coming out of his mouth. "Te necesito?"

"Yo quiero joderte," Jared says, grinning, and Jensen repeats him, feeling foolish.

"Yo quiero joderte," he says carefully, "mi corazón."

Jared grins then, pulling Jensen in for a kiss. "Muy bien," he murmurs. His lips are still sweet with papaya.

"You're getting off on this, aren't you?" Jensen growls, but his lips are twitching in spite of himself. "Ordering me around?"

Jared smiles. "Not nearly as much as I do when you order me around," he says, his voice low and suggestive. It sends a shiver up Jensen's spine.

"In English?" he asks.

"Si," Jared says, and his eyes twinkle, but he bows his head in a parody of submission.

"Okay, then," Jensen says. He surveys Jared, sitting meekly on the couch. This is never going to feel normal, he knows, but he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that Jared is willing. "Strip for me."

Jared doesn't speak as he complies, his long fingers fumbling at his zipper. This is Jensen's choice; the one time Jared called him "sir," he thought he was going to be sick. That guilt may never leave him, not when the thin lines on Jared's back remind him of where they've been.

"God, you're beautiful," Jensen says. Jared flushes at the praise but keeps still, his eyes still downcast, his clothes pooled at his feet.

When Jensen is in the mood to watch Jared pout, he insists that Jared fold the clothes neatly. Jared always makes a show of it, exaggerating his movements, bending over at just the right angle to drive Jensen insane.

Today he ignores the temptation. "Get the lube. I want to watch you open yourself up for me."

Jared inclines his head even further down, then moves quickly across the room. They keep it in a desk drawer, just for the hell of it, on days like this when it’s too hot to go out, too hot to think.

"Over the couch," Jensen says, forestalling any questions. Jared returns to the couch and kneels on the cushions, spreading his legs. Jensen leans back in his chair to watch Jared.

"Come on, open yourself up," he breathes. "Want to hear you, Jared."

Jared moans obligingly as two fingers, coated with lube, work their way into his hole. His hands aren't small, and he goes slowly, carefully.

Jensen insists on that too, and while Jared might like the ache of sinking in hard and fast, he doesn't argue too much.

Jared's fingers are working faster now, in and out with an unmistakable neediness. "Please, Jensen," he begs, clearly grazing his prostate with every stroke.

Jensen is beside him in two steps, unzipping his fly as he goes. "Okay," he agrees. "Okay." As if he's the one in control.

He grasps Jared's wrists, holding them at the small of Jared's back with his left hand as he lines up. It's a compromise; he's not ready to actually tie Jared down, and he's not sure Jared's ready for that either.

"You want me inside you?" he asks, warming a dollop of lube in his hand before he coats his dick.

"God, yes," Jared says. "Please?"

"Since you asked so nicely," Jensen says. He pushes in slowly, his right hand gripping Jared's waist as he steadies himself.

Jared is warm and tight, and he clenches around Jensen almost immediately, rocking back onto Jensen's cock.

"Please, Jensen," he keeps begging as Jensen slides in and out, picking up speed, angling his dick to hit Jared in all the right places. _"Please."_

"Okay, Jared," Jensen says again, breathing heavily as he feels his orgasm building. He releases Jared's hip, bringing his hand around to stroke Jared's own cock in rhythm with his thrusts. "That feel good?" he whispers in Jared's ear.

"God, yes," Jared moans, writhing back on his cock and forward into his hand. "God, Jensen, please..."

"You want to come for me?" Jensen asks, thrusting hard and heavy, knowing that Jared can feel every inch of him.

"God, yes," Jared moans, and he's twisting and suddenly coming in Jensen's hand (and all over the back of the sofa, Jensen can’t help but notice.)

Jensen carries him through it, slowing down his strokes, letting Jared ride it out until he goes limp. And then he lets go of Jared's wrists, moving both his hands back to Jared's hips and kissing Jared's neck as he starts to climax. He bites Jared's shoulder as he comes, reflexively, just enough to leave marks.

He pulls out slowly, and slides to his knees on the floor. "Oof," he mutters. "Not quite enough room on the couch for both of us."

"Not like that, no," Jared agrees, frowning. He turns around, sitting cross-legged on the seat.

Jensen covers his eyes with his hand. "Oh, god, and those cushions are never going to fully recover," he says, shaking his head

Jared jumps up and examines the couch. "I don't think so," he says critically. "I mean, it's microfiber, right? Not real suede? So it should be pretty easy to clean."

"If you say so," Jensen says, eying the sofa and Jared without conviction.

"So... not on the couch anymore," Jared says, grimacing.

"Maybe not," Jensen says.

"The biting was pretty hot though," Jared grins. He reaches up a hand to feel where Jensen's teeth have left marks in the skin. "Am I gonna have a hickey?"

Jensen smiles self-consciously at the patch of strawberry skin. "I guess so, yeah," he says, and maybe he’s a little bit proud of it. He should be getting up, cleaning the couch off, but he's more content to sit here, looking up at Jared's naked form.

Jared, on the other hand, is already bouncing slightly in place, waiting for Jensen to make a move.

"We're gonna need more lube soon, too," he says. "Probably just got enough in the bottle for one more round."

Jensen takes another look at the couch and decides to leave it for later. "So, what, are you suggesting we move this to the bedroom?" he asks.

Jared shrugs. "Or the bathroom. Or the kitchen," he offers.

"Not - not the kitchen," Jensen groans. "We've done enough property damage today."

Jared looks at the couch. "I tell you what," he suggests, lowering his voice to a husky drawl. "Why don't I take care of this mess, while you go back to the bedroom and start getting ready for me?"

And maybe it's a hot day, or maybe Jensen doesn't want to think about anything more complicated than that, but he can't think of anything he'd like more.

"Okay," he says. "Yeah."

He strips off his pants and boxers as he rises, letting them drop beside Jared's. "And you can put these in the laundry while you're at it," he suggests, grinning at Jared's expression. "Don't be too long."

He grabs the lube (and yeah, the container is near empty) and heads back to the bedroom, feeling Jared's eyes upon him.

 _Te amo,_ he thinks in Spanish. _Te amo, te amo, te amo._

\---

_January 20th, 2077_

Jared hasn’t had trouble sleeping in weeks – no nightmares, no insomnia – so Jensen is startled when he realizes Jared is out of bed.

“Hey, kid,” he says sleepily. He isn’t sure why it comes out that way – he hardly ever calls Jared ‘kid’ anymore – but Jared smiles briefly. “What are you doing up?”

Jared shrugs, then goes back to putting his legs through a pair of slacks. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“So, what? You’re going somewhere?” Jensen asks.

“Thought I’d make a call,” Jared says.

Jensen glances at the clock. The blinking red numbers are easy enough to read, even in the dark. “At three in the morning?”

“It’s nine in London,” Jared says.

Jensen sits up then, fumbling for the light. “Who’re you calling in London?” he demands, his voice still thick with sleep.

Jared looks mildly embarrassed. “Her name is Lauren,” he says. “Lauren Cohen. She’s the former Ambassador to the States. She’s… she’s one of us.”

“And it couldn’t wait till morning?” Jensen asks.

Jared rubs his eyes tiredly. “No, it couldn’t,” he says. “It’s been eating me up and I couldn’t sleep. I have to get involved again, Jensen. I need to be back on the front lines.”

It’s not entirely unexpected, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear, especially at fucking three in the morning.

“And when were you planning on telling me this?” Jensen asks, trying not to sound too afraid of Jared’s answer. Jared swallows, hard.

“When I knew something definite,” he says defensively. “I mean, you never know. She might say they couldn’t use me, or not for a while, to just stay here writing articles. And I know that’s what you want to do anyway. I mean, I don’t blame you.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Jared,” he says. “Come back to bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“I need to know now, Jensen,” Jared says, shaking his head in an obvious refusal. “I need to go back there.”

“It’s going to be dangerous as all hell,” Jensen says, thoughts running together as he tries to separate them into sentences. “And you sure as hell can’t go alone.”

“That’s why I’m talking to Lauren’s people,” Jared says, looking down at the floor.

Jensen sighs heavily. Because Jared is right – in a way he would rather stay in Nuevo Laredo, where it’s safe, sending columns and supplies and information across the border by coyote. But there’s only one thing he can say.

“Not what I meant,” he says. And Jared’s face lights up like he hasn’t ever seen before. He’s practically shooting radiance from his dimples.

“You mean…” he says.

“You aren’t getting rid of me that easy,” Jensen finishes. “Now come on, get back to bed. In four hours, it’ll be afternoon in London. You can call then.”

Jared doesn’t need to be told twice. He burrows under the covers immediately, curling up next to Jensen.

“I didn’t want to ask you,” he says breathlessly. “But I couldn’t leave it, you know? I couldn’t. Not while there’s still so much I can do.”

 _So much to be done._ And yeah, Jensen knows. Jared Padalecki wasn’t made to stand still, and he wasn’t made to stand in Jared’s way.

“We’ll call her tomorrow,” he promises, and Jared’s heart beats close to his own.


End file.
